


And I Ain’t Even Wearing a Tie

by shipNslash



Series: What a Pair - 5+1 Javid Series [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Boys In Love, Canon Era, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 10:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipNslash/pseuds/shipNslash
Summary: Jack Kelly is a confident, smooth talking kind of fella. Dave likes that about him, likes how easy it is to get along with his selling partner- even if he is distracted by his handsome face. In comparison, David Jacobs is just some uptight, bookish schoolboy who won’t spit shake and doesn’t know his way around the city he grew up in. So when Dave starts to see cracks in Jack’s suave exterior, he’s understandably confused. What could Jack possibly have to be embarrassed about?~The beginning of their relationship, as told through five times Dave has to reassure Jack and the one time Jack has to reassure Dave.





	And I Ain’t Even Wearing a Tie

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to my first Javid 5+1, can be read out-of-order but comes first chronologically.

Dave can tell from the minute he shows up at the distribution center that he’s going to stick out like sore thumb. And it’s not that Dave isn’t used to that; he’s spent the past ten years being picked at and prodded by his classmates.

 

Except in the past it had always been-

 

_ “Nice jacket, Jacobs, did you fight a street rat for it?” _

_ “Where’s your lunch? Can your mother only afford to feed one of her sons?” _

_ “I’m sorry, what’s a ‘goil’? Oh! You were trying to say girl!” _

 

-and Dave had done everything in his power to conform to the masses around him. He forced himself to pronounce hard r’s and drop his Lower West grammar, he carefully hand washed and stitched up his singular school uniform, and he learned to eat only half his dinner at night so that he’d have something to take out of his lunch pail the next day.

 

When Dave and Les leave school to start working as newsboys, all of these habits suddenly have the reverse effect. He feels just as withdrawn from the other newsies as he had from his classmates but for the opposite reasons. Where he had once been teased for being too poor, too casual, too plain, now it’s-

 

_ “Are you wearing a tie? Dave, it’s hot as the devil’s asshole out here, unbutton your vest.” _

 

_ "He was being ‘impertinent’? What does that even mean? Can’t you just talk plain for once?” _

_ “Don’t be such a girl, Dave, just spit in ya hand and then shake.” _

 

-an unstoppable barrage of orphans and runaways telling him to relax.

 

And not only does he feel just as isolated as he once had at school -where he’d been the top student in his class- but he’s not even good at being a newsie.

 

~ _June_ _1899_ ~

 

The first time it happens, Dave doesn’t see it for what it is.

 

It’s his third day on the job and they decide to break for lunch in Central Park. While Les starts to chase pigeons around, Jack and Dave go to find food.

 

“Come on, Davey,” Jack prods him towards a street cart on the corner, smiling easily even in the oppressive July heat. “Hot dogs are a newsie staple. What’s better than a three cent lunch?”

 

“A two cent lunch?” Dave offers playfully. He’s warming up to Jack, even if their first few interactions had been a little rocky. He’s a kind person, Dave can tell, and despite all his posturing when they’d first met, he splits their profits fifty/fifty after their first day together.

 

Jack laughs and claps Dave on the back. “I knew you had a brain.” He leads him to the cart and they wait patiently, chatting about the weather and the headline and anything else Dave can think of that isn’t a potential sore spot between them.

 

Dave gets his and Les’ order first and hands over the five cents -buy two and save a penny, the sign proclaims- while Jack orders. When the vendor goes to hand over Jack’s food, Jack is bent over his bag looking for the right change. So Dave transfers both of his to one hand and reaches out to grab it- only for his hand to be slapped away roughly by Jack. “Hey!”

 

“Sorry, I was just trying to help,” Dave yelps, holding his sore hand to his chest.

 

Jack’s face is red and his eyes are directed at the still proffered hot dog. “Right, my bad.” He takes the food, hands over his change, and stomps away.

 

Dave jogs to catch up with him and, after taking Les his hot dog, goes to sit by Jack.

 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, just measuring the weight of the other’s mood. Dave doesn’t know what he did to be anger the other boy, especially considering how good they had been getting along only moments before. When the silence becomes too heavy -and yes, Dave has been told before that he doesn’t know the value a comfortable silence- the younger boy coughs awkwardly. “So, do we want to head back to the distribution center for the evening pape?”

 

Jack breathes in deeply and closes his eyes. “I’s sorry about ya hand.”

 

“Oh. Uh, don’t worry about it, Jacky,” Dave says awkwardly.

 

Jack opens one eye to peak at Dave. “Jacky, huh?” He asks and then, without giving Dave the chance to respond, stands and nods. “Right, evening pape. Shake a leg, Davey.”

 

And that’s that.

 

He continues to notice it over the next few weeks; Jack’s jerky and offensive behavior that he displays every now and then, sometimes over things that Dave can’t pin down but always, always, always showing itself when food is involved. And then it stops. They’ll break for lunch and Jack will offer Les a few of his fries. They’ll have dinner with the Jacobs and he’ll get so caught up in a story that his food goes cold. It isn’t until they have lunch with a reporter named Kathrine -because holy hell, they just staged a strike against the World- and Jack practically inhales his whole meal before he even starts to talk that Dave realizes that it didn’t stop, it just stopped around _him_.

 

~ _August_ _1899_ ~

 

The first time Dave understands what’s going on, it’s the week after the strike.

 

He and Jack have grown close, closer than Dave has ever been with anybody, save maybe Sarah. There are still moments where the dissonance between their lives rubs one or both of them the wrong way; Jack will engage in violence the way he so casually does or Dave will scold the other boy for a lack of manners that he finds disturbing. But, for the most part, they have fallen into an easy rhythm that is currently coasting on the high of a successful strike.

 

A success that apparently comes with certain stipulations.

 

“I’s don’t understand why we’s gotta do this,” Jack whines. He’s been whining for the past three blocks and Dave’s nerves are starting to grow thin.

 

So are Spot’s apparently, because the Brooklyn leader smacks the back of Jack’s head with a loose hand. “Could you stop complaining for maybe five seconds, Cowboy?” He grumbles.

 

“We’ve got to apply for a permit with the city if we want to be recognized as a legitimate union,” Dave repeats for what feels like the thousandth time. “It’s just a formality.”

 

Jack kicks at a bottle in the street. “It’s a stupid formality. Can’t you’s do it alone? Do all of us really gotta be here?” He gestures at their small gang of union leaders that includes Jack, Dave, Spot, and the leaders from Queens, Harlem and the Bronx- Sarge, Hawk, and Niner, respectively.

 

“Yes, Jack,” Dave sighs and pinches his nose. “You most of all. You’re the one who has to present our case.” The shorter boy pokes at Jack playfully, trying to shake the boy of his foul mood. “You got that, Mister President?”

 

“I’s ain’t good at talking in front of folks,” Jack grumbles into his jacket. That’s probably part of Jack’s -and the rest of the group’s- foul mood. It’s one of the hottest days of the year and aside from Dave, none of the boys are used to wearing jackets and ties. Not that Jack is wearing a tie, Dave thinks ruefully. It’d been challenge enough to get the boy to leave his lasso and cowboy hat behind.

 

In an attempt to keep his fellow officers from beating each other to death before they even get to the union hall, Dave spins on his heels to walk backwards down the busy street and gives a cocky smile. Or at least what he thinks it’s a cocky smile; he’s really only trying to mimic the smile he’s seen Jack wear so often, the kind of easy, confident expression that the older boy always uses to put others at ease. “You aren’t good at talking? Jack Kelly? The fella who got a whole theater full of newsies to rally?”

 

“Aw, that was different, Dave,” Jack grouses. “Those were my own kind.  I ain’t no good at talking in front of fancy folk.”

 

Spot snorts and tugs at his sleeves. Dave had instructed the other boy not to roll them up and he keeps reaching towards the cuffs on instinct. “Maybe you’s should start with not using ain’t no more. ‘Ain’t’ ain’t even a real word, is it, Mouth?”

 

“Shut the hell up, Spot,” Jack snaps and reaches out to shove Spot in a gesture that isn’t playful teasing but actual, unhampered aggression.

 

Spot stumbles back and has to grab onto Sarge to keep from falling. “What’s ya problem?” The other boy grunts.

 

“Cowboy’s my problem!” Spot yells and lunges for Jack, Irish temper and fists flying. “I’ll teach you not to put ya hands on me again!”

 

Dave and the other three boys all dive in to keep the two separated and for their efforts, Niner gets an elbow to the gut and Dave gets a heel to the shin. When the two leaders have exhausted their efforts, Dave yanks Jack into the nearest alley and shoves him behind an overflowing dumpster, blocking them from view of the other newsies.

 

“What’s your problem?!” He hisses, stabbing Jack in the chest with a shaking finger.

 

Jack whacks his hand away. “I ain’t- I mean, I don’t got a problem.” He’s lying though, Dave can tell. A month ago, Dave would have just taken Jack’s temper tantrum as another aspect of the boy’s personality and shrugged it off. After how close they’ve become though, Dave forces himself to look closer, and…

 

“You’re embarrassed,” he says suddenly. He almost smacks himself in the forehead for how obvious it is in retrospect. “Jacky, Spot was teasing you about your grammar, he didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Jack shakes his head once, as if to deny what Dave is saying, and then deflates suddenly. “He’s right though, Dave,” he says, defeated. “I ain’t- Hell. I’m _not_ good with words like you is and I’m supposed to go in front of the city council to- to be an ambassador for our union? What if I mess it up?” He looks small to Dave just then, fragile in a way that he’s never seemed to be. Dave wracks his brain for the right words to say here, for the words that will reassure Jack of his competency.

 

“You won’t mess it up,” Dave promises weakly. He’s so thrown by the shift in the conversation that he takes a step forward, resting his hands on either side of Jack’s head on the brick wall.

 

“You don’t know that!” Jacks argues, suddenly frantic. “I ain’t even wearing a tie! I’s the president of a union and I’m meeting with the city council without a tie on.”

 

Dave winces. “I did tell you to wear one.”

 

“I don’t even own a tie. You’s always looking like a real gentleman-” _Jack_ _thinks_ _he_ _looks_ _like_ _a_ _gentleman_? “-and then there’s me ‘side you looking like a stable boy.” Jack runs a shaky hand through his hair and Dave stops the motion with a gentle hand around his wrist.

 

“We’ll buy you a tie,” Dave says easily. “A red one, you look good in red.”

 

“I don’t even know how to tie one, Davey.”

 

Dave rolls his eyes. “Then I’ll teach you. I don’t understand why this is getting to you. You’re the unflappable Jack Kelly, best newsie in New York and leader of the most famous strike in the city’s history. Anybody who doesn’t respect you on account of your tie or lack thereof is a moron.” He squeezes the wrist in his hand reassuringly before dropping it.

 

Jack stares at the spot on his wrist where Dave’s fingers had just touched. He’s silent for so long that Dave almost gives in and steps back, but then he starts speaking, voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment.”

 

“A what?! Jacky, you could never embarrass the newsies. We’re all so proud of you.” He puts as much genuine pride as he can into his voice and reaches out to smooth one of the wrinkles in Jack’s jacket. This close together, Dave is painfully aware of how handsome the other boy is and he hopes that none of his feelings show on his face.

 

Jack isn’t looking at Dave though; his eyes are squeezed shut. “Can’t you do the talking, Davey? You’s the Walking Mouth of Manhattan, it’s what you’s good at.”

 

And because Dave has never been able to say no to Jack -not about being selling partners, not about starting a union, and not about going on strike against the most powerful man in the city- he finds himself nodding. “Sure, Jacky, if it’s really what you want, I’ll do the talking,” he promises.

 

“Thanks,” Jack breathes out and finally opens his eyes. Dave doesn’t know when they got so close but he can count the eyelashes splayed across Jack’s tanned cheeks and feel soft, tobacco scented breath ghosting against his face. “I can always count on you.”

 

And then… they’re kissing. It wasn’t Dave’s decision and it wasn’t Jack’s; it was theirs, together, just the softest press of lips shared between two newsies squeezed behind a dumpster and sweating through their good jackets. It hardly lasts long enough to be considered a kiss and then Dave jerks back, stumbling into view of the street and away from Jack’s touch.

 

“We, uh,” he coughs and fidgets with his tie. “We have a meeting to get to.”

 

Jack nods, dazed, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. “Davey, what was-?”

 

“Meeting, Jack. We can… talk about this later.” Dave strides away, cheeks burning and lips tingling, and he hears Jack’s familiar, barking laugh follow him.

 

~ _September_ _1899_ ~

 

The third time Dave soothes Jack’s nerves is on a muggy night.

 

They’ve been kissing on and off for the past few weeks and avoiding any conversation about it, even though Dave is really starting to think that they should talk about it. He’d assumed the first kiss had been a fluke- and the second, and the third. After the fourth kiss, which had then turned into their fifth through about twentieth kiss, Dave had to be straightforward with himself and admit that he was an honest to god queer. He’d always kind of suspected he was, but the only boys he’d ever known had been his classmates, whom he’d hated.

 

Jack, though… He definitely doesn’t hate Jack. If anything, he’s beginning to suspect that he ‘L-word’s the other boy. Which is ridiculous- right? Queers can kiss and stuff, but they don’t actually love each other... do they?

 

By the time they get to their -what Dave is assuming- thousandth kiss, he’s sure that, yes, queers can in fact love each other and yes, David Jacobs is indeed in love with Jack Kelly.

 

“And then I’s said to him, I’s said- hey, Mouth, you listening?” Dave jerks out of his reverie at the sound of Mush calling his nickname.

 

“Yeah, buddy, I’m listening,” Dave assures and tries to pull his focus back to the conversation. “You were just telling the butcher where he could stick his ten cent ham, right?”

 

The group howls with laughter like they always do when Dave lets his manners slip a little. “Exactly!” Mush gushes excitedly and dives back into his story, the whole lodging house crowded around the table in the dining hall.

 

Everybody besides for Jack, Dave notices. When he doesn’t see the boy anywhere, he carefully extracts himself from the crowd and heads towards the bedroom. His plan was to use the bedroom window to climb the fire escape and search the roof but he finds Jack already in bed, curled up in his blanket. “What’re you doing?”

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jack says, voice weak. He peeks out from under his blanket and Dave frowns at the other boy’s flushed face. “I’s tired, okay? Now can I sleep or do you’s wanna play Spanish Inquisition?”

 

“You don’t look so good,” Dave says gently instead of taking offense at Jack’s snappish tone.

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “That’s ‘cause I don’t feels so good.”

 

Dave reaches out a hand and presses it against Jack’s temple. The other boy slaps it away immediately but a second is all Dave needs to know that Jack has a fever. “You’re sick, Jack,” he says admonishingly. “Why didn’t you say something when we were out selling?”

 

“’Cause I got’s to make money whether I’s sick or not. But now that we’s back, I’d really rather rest, okay?” He sounds down right miserable and Dave’s heart twists in his chest.

 

“Yeah, Jacky, you just rest. I’ll go and get you some water.” He turns to leave and stops when Jack grunts in dissent. “What?”

 

The other boy shakes his head. “I don’t want no water, my stomach hurts.”

 

Dave huffs a sigh. “You sound like Les,” he scolds. “You’re sick, you need water and rest.” He reaches his hand out again and sweeps back Jack’s sweaty hair, far too pleased when his hand isn’t pushed away.

 

“Why would I need water?” Jack argues childishly. “If my stomach hurts, I should keep it empty, shouldn’t I?”

 

“What? Jack, no. If you’re sick, you need to stay hydrated. Don’t you know that?” David isn’t even finished saying the words before his hand is wrenched from Jack’s hair and tossed roughly away.

 

Jack tightens his hold on his blanket and rolls over, turning away from Dave and curling up around himself. “Not everybody has a ma like ya’s who holds their hands and kisses their scrapes, Jacobs,” he snarls at the wall.

 

“Jack, come on!” Dave feels like ripping his hair out. “What did I do to upset you this time?”

 

“I ain’t upset,” Jack argues; just like he always does, Dave knows. It’s almost like he feels obligated to put up a token argument with Dave, just to prove to the other boy that he can.

 

“I’d really rather we don’t lie to each other,” Dave says quietly, seriously. “If we’re going to keep doing… this, I need to know that we’re in it together.”

 

Jack pauses and then looks over at Dave with such an intimate expression that he’s suddenly very, very glad the bedroom is empty. “You thinks what we’s been doing is a… ‘this’?”

 

They stare at each other for a moment too long and Dave turns his face to look out the window and up at the night sky. If there’s a moon out, he can’t see it. “Jack,” he starts and then sighs, double checks that they’re alone, and starts again. “Jacky, what we’re doing is the only ‘this’ that I’ve ever been interested in. But if you’re not interested or- or it’s not something that matters to you, please say so right now.”

 

“Davey…” Jack’s face looks young in the darkness; younger than he actually is, which is young to begin with, and flushed with fever. “I think, if it’s something that you’s been thinking about too, that I’d like to be ya fella. You know, steady like.”

 

“My fella?” Dave asks dumbly.

 

Jack’s earnest expression crumbles and he turns back over, voice now muffled by his pillow. “You’s right, that’s stupid. You’s gonna find some nice Jewish girl and have a family and I’ll be their fun Uncle Jack that shows up when their mother goes to bridge night and-”

 

“Jack, stop!” Dave cuts in and rolls Jack to face him with a rough hand on his shoulder. The other boy hisses in pain and Dave winces. “Sorry, just- that is what I want. You know. Steady like.”

 

Jack looks for all the world like a man given proof that god exists. “Really, Davey?” He breathes. No sound comes out, but Dave is close enough to read his lips.

 

Dave nods and then presses a hand back to Jack’s forehead. “Yes, really. And you’re really burning up. I’m going to get you a cold rag and a glass of water and you’re going to listen to your fella, you got that?”

 

That manages to dislodge a laugh from somewhere deep in Jack’s chest. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’s got it.”

 

~ _October_ _1899_ ~

 

The fourth time that Dave has to reassure Jack that everything is fine, he sees how good of a man Jack really is.

 

Dave and Jack had offered Les’ face to Blink and Mush for the day, on account of them owing Race money after a poker night gone wrong (and on account of them wanting some now very sought after privacy). It’s a good headline today, the war in Africa is heating up and there was a real grizzly murder in Brooklyn that involved a naked lady and an axe, and they sell their papers fast enough that they have almost two whole hours of free time.

 

They use the first hour wisely, tucked between some hay bales in a stable, and Dave laughs when he checks his watch.  “We’ve got time to break for lunch, Jacky.”

 

“I’s don’t need any lunch,” Jack mumbles into the skin of Dave’s neck. “I’s got something just plain delicious right in front of me.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Dave says fondly even as he extracts himself from the other boy’s grip.

 

Jack whines but follows suit and starts to get dressed. “Lunch, then? What do you wanna get?”

 

“We’re only a few blocks away from Sarah’s laundry, do you want to see if she can take her break with us?” Dave bends to start lacing his boots. “She seemed kind of upset this morning when she and Pa left for him to walk her to work and I’d like to check on her.”

 

Jack shrugs on his shirt. “Sure. Do you know what’s wrong?”

 

“Not really. She just started courting this new fella and I don’t think Pa likes him much.”

 

Jack smirks. “Sarah’s smart, I’m sure he’s a good guy,” he assures.

 

Dave wants to keep arguing the point but he’s been told, once or twice, that he tends to worry too much. He tells himself that there’s no use fretting over things that he doesn’t even know the details of yet and presses one more kiss to Jack’s lips before pulling away. Once they’re both dressed, they carefully drop down from the loft to the ground and make their way onto the street. Dave leads and bypasses the front door, going to knock on the back entrance with a casual familiarity. When the door is cracked open by a little girl, younger than Les by at least a couple of years, he squats down to her eye level and puts on a mock serious face.

 

“Hello, Miss Susan. May I inquire after my sister?” He says it formally, tugging his hat off in the process.

 

The girl pushes the door all the way open and looks up at Dave widely before frowning when she sees Jack, leaning against the wall casually. “Who’s that, Davey?”

 

“That’s my pal, Jack,” Dave replies. “Heya, Jack, come meet Miss Susan.”

 

Jack pushes away from the wall and crouches in front of the young girl beside Dave. “Jack Kelly, at ya service,” he says, flashing his most winning smile and holding out a hand. When Susan hesitantly offers her own small hand out, he takes it gently and presses a dramatic kiss to her fingers.

 

“Hiya, Mister Kelly,” Susan giggles, pulling her hand back and sticking it in her apron pocket. “I’ll go let Sarah know you’s here, Davey.” And then she’s gone, scampering away into the humid, crowded laundry.

 

Once she’s out of sight, the boys both stand and brush off their pants. “She’s young to be working,” Jack comments mildly.

 

Dave nods, unhappy frown fixed on his features. “She was younger when she started.”

 

“I’s forget, sometimes,” Jack says, looking around them at the back lot of the laundry where a few girls are milling around, folding and hanging clothes. “You know, that girls have it just as hard as boys in this city. Or even harder most’s of the time.”

 

Dave shrugs. “I suppose. Sarah’s girls are tough, like her.” He fiddles with his shirt cuff and tries not to let his thoughts run wild.

 

A moment later, the door is thrown open and Sarah flounces out, as beautiful as ever aside from-

 

“Holy hell, Sarah!” Dave swears, grabbing Sarah by the shoulders and pulling her close. Dave very rarely swears but this situation, in his opinion, really calls for it. Sarah’s left eyes is swollen shut, black and blue at the center and an angry red around the edge. Her brother grabs her chin to tilt her face up and Sarah hisses in pain while Dave and Jack both stare in disbelief.

 

Behind the trio, some of the other girls start tittering. “Your sister showed up to work today looking like a prize fighter!”

 

“Who did this?” Jack all but growls. Dave looks to his right and sees the other boy’s chest is heaving- that’s he’s practically shaking in anger. “Tell me who put their damn hands on you!”

 

Sarah rolls her eye that isn’t swollen shut. “It’s nothing, boys, relax,” she says easily and loops each of her arms through one of theirs and tugs them towards the street.

 

“Seriously, Sarah, what happened?” Dave asks even as he allows himself to be led off.

 

Jack, as eager as always to argue, digs his heels into the sidewalk and jerks both of the Jacobs siblings to a stop. “Do you’s really gotta ask that, Dave? Think about it.” He hold up a hand and starts ticking off on his fingers. “One; she left’s ya place just fine this morning. Two; she show’s’d up to work with a shiner. Three; ya pops walked her to work. Four; her and ya pops ain’t been agreeing on her new fella. What’s that leave us with?” Jack curls his hand into a fist.

 

Dave shakes his head. “Jack, hold on a second. Pa would never- I mean- Right, Sarah?” He turns to his sister, heart suddenly clenching up in his chest.

 

“No!” Sarah protests and looks between the two boys in shock. “You can’t be serious?”

 

“Then tell us what did happen,” Jack snarls lowly.

 

Sarah looks like she’s going to refuse again but she just heaves a heavy sigh and shrugs her shoulders. “It wasn’t Papa, it was… Kathrine.” She says it lowly, as if it’s something dangerous to speak too loudly.

 

“Kathrine? Like our Katherine? Yay high, too smart for her own good?” Dave asks in confusion.

 

Sarah sighs again and rubs the back of her neck. “She didn’t mean to hit me. She just kind of… well- When we… That is-” She looks around them and pulls the two boys into the mouth of the nearest alley. “Davey, I’ve been meaning to tell you that…” She trails off and starts to fiddle with her apron strings. “The reason that Papa doesn’t like my new fella is that I won’t let him meet… her.” She looks up into Dave’s eyes through a well of unshed tears. “I’ve been… courting Kathrine. She elbowed me this morning on accident when we were… busy…” There’s a silence that lasts so long, Sarah’s tears pool over and her breathing becomes heavy. “Davey, I’m so sorry! Please don’t hate me!”

 

Dave pulls himself out of his shock and steps forward to envelope his sister in a tight hug. “Sarah, _shvester_ , don’t cry! It’s okay!”

 

“Really, really okay,” Jack adds, a little breathless, and adds himself to the hug, kissing the top of Sarah’s hair in fraternal affection. “Sarah, me and ya brother are queer for each other.”

 

“What?!”

 

After a lengthy -and laugh and tear filled- explanation, the trio shuffles into a diner and whispers giddily over their soups. Or at least Dave and Sarah do. Beside them, Jack starts to withdraw into himself, swirling his spoon around in his food like eating is too much of an effort, adding nothing but monosyllabic grunts to the conversation. Dave tries to place a calming hand on the other boy’s leg but all it gets him is an obviously faked smile.

 

After they drop Sarah back off at the laundry and are meandering towards the distribution center, Dave tentatively bumps their shoulders together. “What’s bothering you?”

 

“Me? Bothered?” Jack flashes a smile and makes a carefree gesture. “What’s’ve I got’s to be bothered about, Dave?”

 

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. It doesn’t have anything to do with Sarah and Kath, does it? You’re not-” _Jealous_ , Dave almost says, but cuts it off. He knows that that’s not it.

 

They’re silent for another block and then Jack stops suddenly in his tracks and starts speaking, words catching roughly in his throat. “I- I accused ya pops of- Davey,” Jack’s voice breaks and he squeezes his eyes shut. The street traffic streams past them, unnoticing. “Davey, I accused ya pops of some- something horrible. He’s- he and ya ma have never been nothing but nice to me, they’s been more of folks to me then I’s ever had before and I went and-” Jack grabs onto Dave’s arms and shakes him a little, as if to just reassure himself that the other boy was is there. “How’s can you stand there and looks at me and not be disgusted that I would think that?”

 

“Oh, Jacky.” Dave has to stomp on the urge to rest a hand on Jack’s cheek. “Jacky, you have plenty of reason to think the way you do. You and the other newsies, what you guys have lived through? It’s the type of thing that makes you see the world a certain way.”

 

“But I’s shouldn’t’ve-”

 

Dave cuts Jack of with a hand on his wrist. “But nothing, Jack Kelly. You’re a good man and you were looking out for my sister in the best way you know how. Now come on, we’ve got papes to sell.”

 

~ _November_ _1899_ ~

 

Fall is passing over New York when Dave decides that enough is enough with Jack getting embarrassed around Dave.

 

It’s a Wednesday night, the Jacobs boys’ one night of the week that their mother has granted them permission to loiter around the lodging house, and they use every minute of it wisely. Les is playing marbles with the other littles in the dining room and Dave is playing poker over beer bottle caps and peanut shells with the other teenagers on the roof, and the atmosphere is so relaxing that Dave wonders if this is what it feels like to be drunk.

 

“Hey, Mouth, how’s ya pop’s job hunt going?” Mush says, genuinely curious.

 

Dave shrugs and plays a pair of threes. “Nothing yet,” he says uncomfortably. He’s painfully aware that while some of the other newsies don’t mind talking about their pasts or their families, others get prickly when the topic comes up.

 

“Well I’s heard that the factory on Bennet needs a flagger,” Crutchie offers, voice as upbeat as always, “you think he’s could do that with one arm?”

 

Dave smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know but I’ll tell him about it.Thanks, Crutchie.”

 

They play far later than they probably should and -even though Dave knows Les will be asleep once he’s done and his mother will scold him for coming home even later than she’d already bargained down to- he can’t bring himself to leave. He keeps catching glances from Jack over the card game, sweet and laced with implications that Dave now has experience to draw off of. Once Racer has claimed the majority of the placeholder chips and the other boys have all drifted off, either for bed or to go smoke behind the building where the wind won’t blow out their light, Dave and Jack sit close against the chilled wind.

 

“It’s going to be too cold to do this soon,” Dave whispers, tugging his jacket tighter around him.

 

Jack nods ruefully. “I hate winters. I’d rather sweat through my shirt that shiver.” He runs a hand down Dave’s arm and laces their pinkies together.

 

“I know,” Dave says, because he can imagine how much harder winter is on street kids. “Will you come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

 

Jack nods easily. “Sure, if ya folks are okay with it.”

 

“Oh, they are,” Dave assures him. “They asked me to invite you and Kath is coming over, too. Ma and Sarah make the best _rugelach_ you’ve ever had.”

 

Jack laughs heartily and rests his head briefly on Dave’s shoulder. “I’s sure they do, considering I’s definitely never had it before.”

 

“Oh, right,” Dave says dumbly. “It’s a desert. Little pies, sort of, only this big.” He holds up two fingers about an inch apart. “They’re a Jewish thing,” he adds, almost hesitantly. He knows that Jack already knows that Dave is Jewish but he still keeps expecting the other boy to say something about it.

 

“Are they for special occasions?” Is all Jack says and Dave heaves a sigh of relief.

 

He nods and then realizes Jack doesn’t know the special occasion. “Yeah, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

 

“Ya what?” Jack yelps, head snapping over to look at Dave in shock. “You’s didn’t tell me ya birthday was coming up!”

 

Dave shrugs awkwardly. “Well, it is. I’ll finally be as wise as the old Jack Kelly,” he jokes.

 

“Nah, I’s probably eighteen by now anyways, you won’t ever catch up with me,” Jack says back playfully.

 

The words register with Dave in not a teasing manner but in a way that grabs a hold of his heart and twists. He knows that when he and Jack met, Jack was seventeen. And now he’s saying he’s eighteen. But they never…

 

“Did I miss your birthday?” Dave gasps.

 

Jack’s teasing smile slips away and he frowns down as his shoes. “Not really, nah. I’s don’t know the exact date, just that it’s in the fall some time. I’s always used November first as the marker.” He’s blushing madly and he pulls his fingers away from Dave’s hand to tug his hat lower.

 

“What’s got you so pouty?” He asks, unable to keep up with Jack’s breakneck mood shifts.

 

Jack waggles his eyebrows, obviously hoping to shake the sudden awkwardness for a more playful atmosphere. “You think I’s pouting, huh? You’s been looking at my lips a lot then, Davey?”

 

Dave shakes his head firmly, resolute. “Don’t try to change the subject. We’re not doing this anymore,” he declares.

 

“Doing what? Not not celebrating my birthday?” Jack pulls a face.

 

“No,” Dave says shortly. “We’re not going to sit here and be- be embarrassed or shy or nervous around each other anymore. So maybe I don’t know how to breathe through a broken nose or what a Harlem hug is-”

 

“I told you, Davey, it’s being pick pocketed-“

 

“-or maybe you don’t know how to tie a tie or when your birthday is, but we’re… we’re together, Jacky. That’s got to mean something. At least, I want it to mean something. Something steady, yeah?” He repeats the phrase from a few months ago that had spurred their relationship. “You’re my fella, aren’t you?”

 

Jack’s smile grows slowly, from something shy and surprised to wide and bright. “Sure am. And look at you, Jack Kelly’s very own sweetheart. What’d you’s do to get stuck with me, you sorry bastard?”

 

“Something lucky,” Dave whispers and dares to go in for a quick peck. They’re too exposed to actually kiss but even the briefest of contact is enough to set his heart thumping. “I did something very, very lucky.”

 

~

 

The next night, Dave opens the door to find Jack in the hallway, wearing his nice jacket and sporting a washed face. “No fire escape?” He quips, stepping aside to let the boy in. Esther and Mayer greet him warmly, Les swarms him for attention, and Sarah and Kathrine hardly notices him at all, bent low over a game of chess.

 

Esther yanks on her son’s ear and tuts. “David, you leave this nice boy alone. Jack, please, come in and have a seat.”

 

Jack complies, smiling and dropping into the seat at the table that is recognized as his. “Thank you, ma’am. I hears from Dave that I’s in for a real treat. Rug-a-lock or something?” He cranes his neck to look towards the kitchen and Mayer laughs.

 

“ _R ugelach_. Don’t even try, Jack, Esther has the oven locked up like Buckingham Palace.” Mayer shoots Jack a teasing look over his newspaper.

 

Dave happily notices that any discomfort from Jack’s outburst at Sarah’s black eye seems to have faded, leaving the boy as comfortable around the man as he’d been before. They eat the hearty meal tucked tightly around the table, Dave bumping elbows with Jack and Les and knocking his feet against Sarah's under the table. Kathrine seems happy and she and Dave talk about politics for a while before it becomes obvious that they’re boring the rest of the table to sleep. Once dinner is done, Sarah and Esther get up to start plating the rugelach and Mayer crooks a finger at Les.

 

“Les, why don’t you go into the bedroom and get the presents?” He asks.

 

Les scrambles to comply and beside Dave, Jack squirms uncomfortably. “Aw, hell, Davey, I didn’t get you a-”

 

“Shut your mouth,” Dave interrupts and wags a finger in Jack’s face. “We aren’t doing this today.”

 

Jack huffs a laugh and slouches in his chair. “Whatever you say, Davey,” he acquiesces and, to Dave’s amusement, he sounds genuinely sincere.

 

Les comes out of the bedroom with the presents, a large box and a smaller one balanced on top, both wrapped in newspapers. And while the newspaper thing isn’t new -his ma has wrapped every birthday and Hanukkah gift he’s ever gotten in old newspapers- something about seeing it now, now that his life revolves around the things, makes him burst out in laughter. Jack laughs too, until the two of them are laughing so hard that they’re falling all over each other, sucking in air like it’s a chore.

 

When they finally calm down, Jack wipes a tear away from his eye. “I’s guess that’s one way to get rid of papes with bummer headlines, huh, Davey?”

 

“Sure is, pal,” Dave agrees and accepts the two plates Sarah offers.

 

He sets one in front of Jack and the other boy eyes the little desserts suspiciously. “Am’s I supposed to eat them in one bite?” He asks, looking to Sarah for confirmation.

 

“Down the hatch,” she confirms and demonstrates. Beside her, Kathrine mimics the actions and lets out a soft moan as the sweet filling hits her tongue. Dave watches -and tries and fails to hide his amusement- as Sarah’s eyes zero in on the girl’s mouth and her pupils go wide.

 

Beside him, Jack snorts into his fist. “My turn?” He asks, pitching his voice low enough for only Dave to hear. And then he pops the pastry into his mouth and flicks his tongue out to lick the crumbs away from his fingers.

 

Dave stares at the digits with a muted fascination before turning his attention away sharply and back down to his own plate. “Do you like it?”

 

“Love it,” Jack says smugly. “You’s is unsurpassable as always, Misses Jacobs.”

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you coming around,” Esther tithers from across the table, head resting on Mayer’s shoulder. “Now, boys, open your gifts.” She leans forward and pushes the larger package towards Dave and the smaller one towards Jack. “You first, Mister Kelly.”

 

“Me… what?” Jack manages, looking down at the box like Esther just told him to eat a rock.

 

Dave bites on his lip to fight a smile and Les bounces in his seat. “Come on, Cowboy, open it!”

 

“I don’t… It’s not…?”

 

He sounds so confused that Dave reaches out and pushes the box into his hands. “I might’ve told my parents about how your birthday is November first and we missed it, so they decided that we could celebrate both of ours today.”

 

“It’s nothing, Jack,” Mayer assures him.

 

Jack looks around the table with large eyes before raising the box up and gently, carefully pulling away the newspaper wrapping. Once it’s open, he reaches his hand in and pulls out a length of fabric- soft and bright red. “A tie,” he whispers.

 

“I’d offer to teach you to tie it,” Mayer says, easy smile still on his face. “But David informed me that he’s got that handled. Happy birthday, Jack.” The rest of the table echoes the sentiment and Jack mutters his thanks.

 

Esther taps the larger box on the table after that and Dave holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m going, Mama.”

 

He opens the paper much less gently than Jack, letting it fall to the floor and opening the lid on the box with sure fingers. When he pulls out the contents though, his mouth falls open in slack jawed surprise. He knows what it is the instant he sees it but he still shakes it out and takes in the familiar jacket, dull gray and pleated, and spares a touch for the matching pair of trousers still folded in the box. Across the table, Les lets out a pathetic, high pitched whine and flops back in his chair but Dave is starting to smile, a slow spread of cheeks that lights up his features. He drops the jacket back into the box and bolts around the table to wrap both of his parents in a tight hug.

 

“Papa, did you find a job?” Sarah asks, looking almost as shocked as Dave.

 

“Just something part time,” Mayer says, tone apologetic. “You’re still going to have to go selling, Dave. But, if you think you can handle both-”

 

Dave nods enthusiastically and feels the beginning of tears. “Of course, anything! Thank you!”

 

Still in his chair, Jack shifts uncomfortably. “What’s going’s on?” He asks quietly. Dave knows how much the boy hates not understanding and he tries to pull himself together enough to explain.

 

“It’s my school uniform,” Dave says, standing straight and wiping at his eyes.

 

“Oh,” Jack says, looking a little disappointed for a minute. The look slides away easily enough, though, and soon he’s nodding and smiling at Dave. “So you’s going back to school. That’s good, Dave, that’s just swell. And good on you, Mayer, for’s finding a job.

 

The rest of the night passes in good cheer, but Dave can’t stop thinking about the momentary disappointment in Jack’s eye when he realized that Dave was going back to school. Was he upset that he’d be losing Dave and Les as selling partners? Or maybe he was jealous that Dave would be going to school when he’d never gotten the chance? No, Dave thinks to himself even as he is corralled into a game of cards with Jack and the girls, neither of those feel right. Dave thinks back on the past few months, on the moments of vulnerability he’s seen in the other boy, the secret insecurities and worries that Dave has tried to kiss away. Could it be that Jack is feeling that way now, worried that Dave will forget him when he goes back to school?

 

Impossible, of course, but it seems like the most likely scenario to Dave. And if he’s worried that Dave’s attention will turn towards his classmates -all complete jerks that Dave is not looking forward to seeing again- is it possible that Jack will look for somewhere else to turn his own attention? Dave thinks of all the tanned, muscular boys that Jack will be hanging out with on a daily basis, all much worldlier and easy going than Dave. And that’s to say nothing of the girls. Beautiful, tough, hardworking girls who would be able to talk to Jack about stuff they had in common. He won’t have to listen to Dave drone on and on about… snakes, or clouds, or poetry, or whatever it is that he’s obsessed with at the time.

 

By the time his folks start wrapping up leftovers for their guests, Dave is practically trembling with anxiety. “Miss Plumber, would you’s be so kind as to allow a fella like me to escort’s you home?” Jack asks the girl, voice oozing with flirtation. Dave feels his eye twitch.

 

Kathrine laughs as she stands. “It will be just like old times, Mister Kelly.”

 

“That’s sounds like a swell idea,” Dave practically snaps and starts herding Jack towards the door. “Come on, Sarah and I’ll walk you to the front door.

 

‘The front door’ turns out to be the basement of their building where Dave drags Jack behind a stack of broken milk crates, ignoring the girls’ giggles. “You don’t have to do that,” Dave hisses into Jack’s neck. “Flirt with her like that.” He’s trying to get his hands under Jack’s shirt and gives a frustrated yank when all he finds is his undershirt.

 

“Is you jealous, David Jacobs?” Jack snickers, running a gentle hand through the younger boy’s curly hair. “Listen, no sweetheart of mine’s got any reason to be jealous, you hear?”

 

“I hear,” Dave says, shifting his attention from Jack’s neck to his mouth.

 

After a decent amount of kissing, Jack pulls away for breath and looks Dave up and down incredulously. “What has gotten into you, darling?”

 

“Just making sure,” Dave manages before diving in for another kiss. “That you aren’t,” _kiss_ , “going to forget me,” _kiss_ , “when I go back,” _kiss_ , “to school.”

 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jack yelps, pulling away again and using Dave’s elbows to hold him at arm’s length. They’re both panting and ruffled looking and when Dave tries to immediately launch himself back at the taller boy, Jack stumbles backwards. “Just slow down there, baby,” Jack blurts out and then winces and lowers his voice. “Do you really thinks that you’s gotta kiss me like this to stop me from’s forgetting you? Davey, you heard ya pops- you’s still gonna be selling. We’ll see each other on weekends and for the evening edition still, right?”

 

Dave whines high in his throat and paws at Jack’s belt. “You could do so much better than me, Jacky, let me have my time with you while I can.” It’s more honest than Dave had meant to be but once the words are out, he can’t take them back.

 

“Excuse me?” Jack steps back another foot and looks around the cellar as if the dusty stacks of wood will offer some kind of explanation.

 

“I’m not stupid, Jack,” Dave says again, wrapping his now empty arms around himself. “You didn’t like me when you first met me. Once I go back to school, guess what’s going to happen? I’m going to start- start dressing the same and talking the same and just… just being the same person that you didn’t like from before the strike.”

 

His breath gives a little hitch and suddenly Jack is surging forward, wrapping his arms around the other boy. “Aw, Davey, come on, darling, don’t cry. I don’t love you ‘cause you don’t wear a tie or ‘cause you know how to talk about boxing now. I loves you ‘cause you’s is David Jacobs, the best fella I’s ever known.”

 

“You really won’t mind if I turn back into the old David?” David whispers into Jack’s chest.

 

Dave feels Jack press a kiss to his hair, a barely there pressure. “There ain’t no such thing as an old David or a new David, you got’s me? Just you. My Davey.” Jack pulls back enough for them to meet each other’s eye.

 

Dave gives a watery smile and nods. “I’s got you.”

 

Jack laughs at Dave’s mispronunciation and hugs the boy tighter for a moment before releasing him. “Now,” he asks, voice faux serious. “If I try to walk Kath home, are you going to jump me again?”

 

“No.” Dave shakes his head, the tight feeling in his chest dissipating completely. “No, I think we’re good.”

 

~ _December_ _1899_ ~

 

On Dave’s first day back to school, he wakes up to a frantic tapping on the window and Jack Kelly’s face mushed against the glass. He hurries to throw the window open and the older boy tumbles in with a rush of cold air.

 

“You’re going to catch your death out in that cold, Jacky,” Dave whispers, conscious of Les sleeping behind him.

 

Jack only grins and straightens up. “I had to come wish my fella good luck,” he whispers back.

 

“You’re nauseatingly sentimental,” Dave informs him with an eye roll. “I’m going to see you in about ten hours anyways.”

 

They gravitate towards the kitchen and Jack watches Dave start boiling water for coffee. “The boarding house at three, right? You and Les?” He confirms.

 

“Three o’clock,” Dave repeats. He washes his face and brushes his teeth in the sink and, after glancing to make sure that Les is still asleep, starts to shed his sleep clothes. “Don’t get any improper ideas,” he warns Jack and goes to where his uniform is hanging on the edge of the bed. He can feel Jack’s stare and can’t help but dress a little slowly, pulling on his trousers and undershirt in a way that he knows the other boy will appreciate.

 

“Ain’t nothing improper about a fella watching his sweetheart,” comes a heady whisper in Dave’s ear and he jerks back into Jack’s chest. “Mind if I helps with ya tie?” He asks, lips against Dave’s ear. “I learned from the best.”

 

Dave laughs a little breathlessly and holds the familiar tie up. “I might need your help, I’m a little out of practice.”

 

Jack’s hands curl around Jack’s neck gently. “Hey, watch it,” he says in a warning tone. “If I’s hear you talking bad about my darling, I’ll’s have to soak you real good.” He tugs at the tie a little roughly, wrinkling the material, but Dave doesn’t say anything.

 

“How very chivalrous of you,” he quips and steps away once Jack is done. He goes to look in the mirror and straightens the tie with a practiced hand before slipping on his old jacket. It’s the same one he’d had before he’d left school to work, worn from regular wear and patched by his mother’s loving hand. It doesn’t fit right, Dave realizes with a frown, too short in the sleeves from a growth spurt and too small in the shoulders from muscle gained carting around newspapers for six months.

 

“You look good,” Jack whispers and Dave can see him smiling from behind him in the mirror. “You ready?”

 

Dave shoots one more glance towards the sleeping Les and then leans in to give Jack a quick, chaste kiss. “I am now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the read! Feedback appreciated!


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